


Story Book

by sonnet_18



Category: Togainu no Chi
Genre: Drama, M/M, Romance, post route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 16:25:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14116290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonnet_18/pseuds/sonnet_18
Summary: Akira couldn't sleep whenever it rained...





	Story Book

 

Akira couldn’t sleep.

 

It’s always like this when it rained heavily.

 

Usually he didn’t let it bother him as long as he had work to distract his mind from. Either proofreading Motomi’s article, edit the photos to their laptop or even clean the kitchen. Living together for nearly 2 months with this routine helped him a lot. Akira felt safe by his partner’s side, he even slept better compared to when he was always on the run back at Toshima. The only problem was when…

 

A rumbling thunder growled outside, nearly shaking the windows with its echoes.

 

Quietly Akira climbed out of the warm bed and picked up a shirt from the floor. After he wore it and buttoned up, Akira was surprised to smell the faint scent of tobacco. Oh, this was Motomi’s, no wonder it’s a bit large for him. Akira couldn’t bother to search for his own shirt in the darkness so he just went with it to exit the room.

 

Glancing at the clock, Akira sighed that there’s still several hours to go before dawn. It’s still midnight and he really didn’t want to make too much noise to wake his partner. He could always climb back in bed and let Motomi hug him close to doze off but Akira knew when it rained like this, there’d be no snoozing no matter how much he tossed and turn.

 

Entering the small living room of their rented apartment, Akira looked around as he wondered what to do to pass the time. Something that won’t make too much noise; it didn’t take long for Akira to begin his quick clean-up of the study table. It’s littered with scattered papers, empty cups of coffee and an ash tray nearly filled to the brim.

 

Once done with the tasks, Akira sat down on the creaky and uncomfortable couch. What should he do next? Without Motomi around, the young man felt restless. It didn’t help that the rain seemed to pour harder outside.

 

A thunder boomed outside after a flash of light, Akira quickly closed the window by pulling the curtains. His fingers shook slightly and with a silent curse, he gripped them into fists.

 

“It’s just the rain, it’s nothing.”

 

He whispered to himself, trying his best not to let the images in his mind bother him.

 

Should he take care of their laundry? Iron their clothes? Wipe the coffee table for the 3rd time? Despite Motomi’s shabby appearance, his habits of a clean and comfy home rubbed off on Akira who used to have no care over these matters.

 

Akira shook his head, it’s not just Motomi’s influence. He developed this cleaning habit whenever his mind grew restless and anxious. Especially when the past played in his mind like a broken movie. It always happened when the rain poured down hard like tonight.

 

“….Keisuke.”

 

Akira slumped into his seat, giving into the familiar ache in his chest and the never ending guilt eating away his heart.

 

Rain always reminded him of the final night he saw Keisuke. The noise of the falling rain, so loud it was deafening to his ears. Now the tremors enveloped Akira’s whole body, not because of the cold but the assaulting memories. Akira doubled over and desperately covered his ears over the imaginary noises; Keisuke’s screams, the thundering rainstorm…

 

“It was all my fault… if only I talked to him sooner… if only I chased…”

 

“Akira?”

 

The youth shook violently when he heard a familiar voice and the light switch flipped on.

 

“Oi, you okay?”

 

A gentle hand gripped Akira’s trembling shoulder after the person moved close to him.

 

The youth looked up weakly to see Motomi’s tired but concerned eyes. Going down on his knees as he faced the pale Akira.

 

“O… Ossan…”

 

“I was wondering where you went. What’s wrong?”

 

Akira looked away, his throat clogged. He didn’t know where to start.

 

“Lately you’ve been waking up earlier than me. Sometimes I wonder if you ever slept at all. Akira, what’s the matter? You know you can tell me anything. It’s been raining a lot; I don’t want you to get sick…”

 

Now Akira felt like a dick for causing his lover trouble and worry. He’s still not used to share his problems even when they’ve been living together for awhile now. It’s a bad habit of his to bottle things up and settled his matters on his own. Even with past nightmares or this insomnia.

 

“It’s… nothing serious.”

 

He lied and he knew Motomi saw through him.

 

“Ah, seriously you…”

 

Motomi pulled him into a hug and embraced him firmly. Akira felt the softness from Motomi’s hair tickling his cheek and Motomi's familiar scent tentalized his sense of smell. Finally, the trembling stopped. It’s amazing how his lover had that ability, making him feel safe and protected.

 

“Alright, I won’t push. But remember you can always tell me anything. You’re my precious partner, okay?”

 

Akira nodded as he slowly raised his cold hands and hugged him back. Almost clinging onto Motomi desperately.

 

“…Yeah.”

 

They hugged like that for a while more. Motomi on his knees, hugging his lover and patting Akira’s head to his back in soothing motions while Akira on the couch, leaning against him.

 

He could fall asleep like this but... he could still hear Keisuke’s faint screams of agony muffled by the rain…

 

“O-Ossan, I’m okay now.”, Akira slowly pulled away, “You have to wake up early later. Please go to bed.”

 

Motomi frowned at Akira’s wording, “…and what about you?”

 

The assistant refused to look into his eyes, “I’ll… iron your clothes. I’m not tired.” He lied.

 

Motomi sighed but he smiled after that.

 

“Come on, get up.”

 

Akira reluctantly stood, “Really, I’m not tired.”

 

“I know, I know.” Motomi chuckled then kissed him on the forehead, “Actually there’s something I want to show you. So will you please come to bed with me?”

 

********

 

Once nestled back to their bed, Motomi propped up the pillows and leaned his back against the headboard. Sitting between his legs with his back against Motomi’s chest, Akira made himself comfy despite feeling awkward over this embarassing seating arrangement. Motomi always liked to cuddle with him. But this time their cuddle also included a book on Akira’s lap that Motomi plucked from the shelf.

 

Motomi’s old notebook, about B5 size but quite thick and dirty as if it had its fair share of rain, dirt and sun. Akira worried the book may crumbled like fragile autumn leaves if he dare to flip the pages. There were scrap papers and polaroid pictures sticking out in some parts of the edges. Akira was reminded of a scrap book rather than a book. The edges marked with several sticky notes and rusty paper clips. The cover was plain except for a handwritten “20xx-20YY” lettering done by a marker pen on the bottom.

 

“Ossan… this is…”

 

“My diary.”

 

Akira blinked at Motomi’s answer that he turned his head to look over his shoulder, “…diary?” Who would have thought Motomi would have such a… girly hobby?

 

The journalist laughed at Akira’s expression then he smooched his temple.

 

“I’m not kidding, this book contained all my secrets, wishes and drawings of unicorns!”

 

Without waiting for Akira’s reply, Motomi began leafing the pages one by one for his partner to see and read. Motomi wasn’t entirely lying but actually the book was his journal travels than an actual daydreamer’s ramblings.

 

“I used to carry this book during my mercenary days. Just like you when I couldn’t sleep, I’d write here; about my worries and troubles. About the travels I went, about the people I met, about the sceneries I witnessed…”

 

Chronologically Motomi explained and showed to Akira the adventures and experiences he had and recorded into the book.

 

One could argue Motomi may have made it all up but the evidences of polaroid pictures, mementos and drawings that he doodled were all too detailed to be fables.

 

Akira stopped Motomi’s hand from flipping the 8th page then stared intently at an old mini portrait.

 

“Is that… you?”

 

Motomi almost blushed in embarrassment.

 

“Yeah, do I look handsome?”

 

The picture was a young man in a military uniform complete with a military haircut. But there’s no mistaking the jaw line and sharp, brown eyes.

 

Akira looked back and forth between the person in the picture and the man hugging him from behind.

 

“You looked… so angry and… cold.”

 

He couldn’t imagine this smiley dork was the same man in the picture.

 

Motomi merely shrugged, “During that time I was in a rough patch, torn between following after my son and wife or move on to chase after Premier. Rage was what kept me going than pull the…”

 

He trailed off with a shrug and smiled like always. He spoke casually but Akira could tell his deep voice dropped to a chilly tone.

 

“Nano… Nano is not entirely at fault.”

 

Akira could only imagine how Motomi’s grief felt like but at the same time he also thought it’s unfair to place all the blame on Nano.

 

“He’s… just like me.”

 

Akira wanted to say more but unable to say the words. Unsure where to start. He wanted to defend Nano but at the same time he didn’t want to brush off his lover’s pain as just an accident. Akira felt conflicted on whose side he wanted to take because he cared for both men in his own way.

 

Suddenly Motomi hugged him close with his big arms wrapped around Akira’s tummy.

 

“I know, love. I told you before, right? No matter what your blood is capable of, no matter what your past is… Akira is still Akira and I love you all the same.”

 

Akira tried to blink back tears from his eyes as he leaned back against Motomi’s broad chest.

 

“As for Premier…”, Motomi looked out to the window with a faraway gaze, “One day if we meet him, I’ll help you to... aid him.”

 

Akira wiped the corner of his eyes, he… truly cherished this man with such a forgiving heart.

 

Motomi rubbed Akira’s arm gently, “Sorry, the atmosphere suddenly became tense and heavy. Do you want to stop?”

 

Akira shook his head and didn’t let go of the book on his lap.

 

“No… I want to know more about you.”

 

He remembered back at the Toshima alley when Motomi dropped his notebook. How Akira picked it up and Motomi looked so tensed and alarmed as if Akira trespassed Motomi's top secret information!

 

The fact that Motomi was willing to share what possibly his most memorable and important book here meant a lot to Akira.

 

Motomi smiled then nodded, “Alright, now where was I? Oh yeah, see this postcard? It’s from a place called….”

 

Akira listened to his partner’s bass voice as the former information broker narrated his experiences.

 

“…The more I travelled, the more I met different types of people. Language wasn’t a barrier; we could communicate in many ways. Nobody cared for your background if you were a prince or a beggar, due to this I began to appreciate the simple pleasures in life. Like how we could eat all we want and not worry for tomorrow’s dinner. How we can drink clean water safely instead of walking several miles to a drying well. For a brief moment I forgot my goal for revenge on Premier when I was with these people of the tribe.”

 

Motomi pointed to an old photo of a group of women with tribal clothes and tattoos. It was when Motomi got separated by his troop and nearly got jailed when he stumbled upon this secluded village. He was starving and dehydrated, when the head chief deemed him harmless, Motomi was given food and water. A week later he managed to bond with the village kids and even learned their culture.

 

“The women had long earlobes because they wore heavy earrings and elongated their necks because it’s a sign of beauty for them.”

 

Akira was bewildered at the pictures of the women posing proudly with their jewelries. Several ring like chokers around their necks stacked up about 8-12 rings, making their necks longer than the average woman. And their earlobes were so long that they rested onto their shoulders.

 

“Does it… hurt?”

 

Motomi shook his head, “Nah, these ladies started wearing their neck-rings early. Then as they grew older, they add one ring a year. Only the prestigious and rich could afford this tradition. I’ve always wanted to be a journalist and that time it was fun learning about their history and culture. But all good things must come to an end and I managed to reunite with my team when they searched for me.”

 

Motomi flipped the pages, stopping at another old polaroid photo of a group of women in eastern clothing.

 

“…and these women here, notice their feet?”

 

Akira squinted, “Why are they so… small?”

 

He examined the photos closely, the adult women wore shoes fit for a child!

 

“In this other village, it was considered beautiful to have small feet. I was sad to learn that young girls aged about 5 got their toes and little fingers broken then bounded to fit into small shoes.”

 

Akira winced, “But… why?”

 

“Well one of the wives told me that in the past an emperor preferred his concubine with small feet. Since then it became a trend to have small soles. Even if they have to take drastic measures. I learnef how the world could be so cruel and unfair to women after I traveled from one country to another.”

 

Motomi continued with his narration of his experiences, both the funny moments and the sad ones. As well as the surprising ones.

 

“You… learned what from a prostitute?!”

 

Akira nearly shout.

 

Motomi laughed, “Akira, calm down. I assure you Dolly and I are just friends.”

 

They’ve come to the middle of the book where Motomi documented his days at one of the coldest European town.

 

“Dolores, or Dolly as she was known, she’s someone you don’t want to make a fool of. Sure she acted like a bimbo and child-like but it was all part of her job. Prostitution is just her job; her real self is something much different.”

 

To get away from the cold, Motomi stumbled into a bar. But it wasn’t any bar of the small town but a place where patrons could buy a night with a lady. Motomi wasn’t interested to bed anyone after his wife passed away but he did befriend one of the workers there called Dolly.

 

“I have to thank her for teaching me how to get people to talk without being obvious to it. You remember I used to be an information broker, right? Some clients can be tight lipped so her experiences and lessons really helped me out. How to ask certain questions to get them spill the beans and analyse which information is true or not.”

 

Akira didn’t expect that, his only experience with women were when they wanted to touch him or flirt with him due to his Bl@ster status. He never thought about wanting to know about them since he just didn’t bother about it.

 

“…and then we parted. I missed her companionship but I have to move on, find Premier and enter Toshima.”

 

Motomi had a wistful tone to his voice.

 

Akira wanted to ask if the two of them…. Ever became intimate. He looked down at the picture and letter pinned to the page. The letter written in English and ended with X-O-X-O followed by a kiss mark lipstick stain.

 

Akira strangely felt irritated.

 

Motomi was his!

 

“Akira? Oi, did you doze off?”

 

“H-huh? No, I wasn’t.”

 

The youth mentally shook his head, since when did he became so possessive? How very much unlike him to think like that.

 

“So Dolly recommended me to meet a friend of hers… now where did I put her picture… oh! Here she is!”

 

He stopped flipping after the 3rd page.

 

Why were all Motomi’s past acquaintances were pretty women? Akira grumbled unhappily.

 

“See here the one in lab coat and frizzy hair? Dolly’s friend, Angie. She knows all sorts of weapons, fake ids, forged passports and transports. Rumor says she’s a heiress of a gun company or something. She owed Dolly her life so any friends of Dolly is a friend of hers. I’m lucky to have Angie on my side as she didn’t mind lending me any armor, weapons or vehicles I may need before I infiltrate Toshima.”

 

Akira blinked at the sketch Motomi drew of Angie’s lab room. He felt sleepy but refused to give into the Sandman. Stifling a yawn, he asked, “Is she… supposed to be some mad scientist?”

 

Motomi laughed with a shrug of his shoulders, “Perhaps. She always served me coffee with her beaker and her left brow always twitched as if she played with electricity when she was a lass.”

 

He turned to look at the gun he placed on the coffee table.

 

“Despite her urge for me to be armed from head to toe, I’m grateful she fixed my gun. I only needed that to enter Toshima… and oh yeah, a few explosives too I brought in. I planned to blow up that rotten palace…”

 

“Is that…so?”

 

Akira asked sleepily.

 

Finally, they reached the final page of the book. There was only a simple written message followed by a picture of a child about 7 years old

 

“This is…”

 

“…. My son.”

 

Akira caressed the old photo, “He… looked like you.”

 

It was like looking at a baby Motomi with brown hair but fairer skin instead of his dad’s tan. Child-like dimples and chubby hands.

 

Motomi forced a laugh, “Yeah, but he had his mother’s eyes.” With a small smile, the widow sighed, “… he was my pride and joy.”

 

Akira reached to grasp Motomi’s hand, linking their fingers together.

 

The message Motomi wrote under his son’s picture was; **_‘Do it for him.’_**

 

It was Motomi’s reminder to himself. His goal was to track down Premier and avenge his family.

 

Who would have thought that fate led him to meet Akira and his whole life changed? Make him remember how to love again and not self destruct with continuous cigs and beer?

 

“Thank you, Akira. I would have continued to be someone stuck in my past and be bitter all my life if I hadn’t met you.”

 

Akira smiled a bit, his eyes slowly drifting close, “You were so stubborn that I even… forced you to try choking me to get my message across.”

 

Motomi chuckled nervously at the memory back at the church, “Please don’t do something that drastic again, love.”

 

Silence…

 

“… Akira?”

 

Motomi blinked when he heard the soft snores from the young man in his arms. Somehow Akira fell asleep!

 

“Oh, you’re really a handful.”

 

The older man laughed then put away the book and helped his lover to lay on the bed. The youth grunted a bit but resumed his sleep once Motomi laid down as well beside him. Akira moved close as if seeking after Motomi’s warmth.

 

“I’m glad that bed time story helped you to sleep, Akira.”

 

Motomi pressed his lips to his lover’s.

 

“I just hope one day you’ll trust me enough to share what made you sleepless whenever it rains.”

 

He didn’t have to look back at the window as the thunder receded followed by light pitter patter of rain.

 

“Until then I’ll watch over you, Akira. All your worries and troubles, we’ll bear it together. As we have promised to be with each other… always.”

 

He pulled the blanket over them and began to drift asleep as well. He’s glad that reading Akira to bed helped his partner to snooze. Next time he hoped Akira would share what troubled him. Well, there’s no hurry. Because Motomi was determined to protect Akira til the end of their days, together forever til they reach the grave.

 

\---------

 

\-----------------------------

 

\------------------------------------------------

 

End?

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very interested about Motomi's life after the tragedy of his family and before he met Akira so here's my attempt at it. 
> 
> The scrapbook/journal/diary is loosely based from the TnC manga vol.10 by Chayamachi-sensei. Just that the book content is my own idea what Motomi may have include and write of his merc days.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
